Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince
by FloridaFlower
Summary: In his 6th year, Harry and co. must solve a series of riddles to find the Half-Blood Prince, a key to the war against Voldemort. But will his new friends help him, or hinder him? Chapter 1


**A/N**: This is my first fic, and my take on Harry's sixth year at Hogwarts. Beware of angst, ramblings, and mood swings (oh, yes, Potter PMS) in this chapter! There WILL be some new characters, so go ahead and hate them! This is my Harry/Mary-Sue crossed with Ron/Mary-Sue as well as Gryffindor/Redeemed!Slytherin cliché fic, so what did you expect? Any flames will be doused in the rainforest I live near.

Mega spoilers for books One through Five, by the way.

**Disclaimer**: I am not J.K. Rowling; I cannot write that well! All credit for this would go to her, if any money was made off of it. I own nothing; I'm just borrowing, although I might end up commandeering Oliver Wood. Just kidding.

With out further ado...

_Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince_

_Chapter One_

_Surprises_

The dark-haired boy that lived at Number Four Privet Drive was staring at the ceiling when the window was tapped early in the morning on July thirty-first. He rolled over on his side to gaze at the owls whose beaks were beating against the window. He opened the window and the birds all dropped their packages. Paying the owl delivering the newspaper and closing the window after the owls left, he sat down and began sorting through the mail labeled "Harry Potter."

Harry quickly tossed aside The Daily Prophet, which he knew was full of frantic articles regarding the Dark Lord's return, compensating for its ignorance of last year. He then looked through his birthday packages from his friends, Ron, Hermione, and Hagrid, searching for the gift from his godfather, Sirius Black, only to remember it wouldn't be there. In anger, Harry threw a rather large box into the wall opposite his bed, but regretted it as he heard footsteps coming towards his room.

Harry desperately lifted up a loose floorboard and shoved the packages into the small opening. He lowered the floorboard back into place and jumped into bed, closing his eyes just as his uncle opened the door.

Even after being warned by three members of the Order of the Phoenix to be kind to Harry, Vernon Dursley was still as suspicious of his nephew as ever. One did not have to necessarily trust completely in someone to be nice to them. Mr. Dursley barged in, turned on the lights, and asked, "What's going on?"

Harry stared up into his uncle's purple face, in what he hoped was a groggy manner. "Nothing," he replied, knowing his uncle wouldn't believe him.

"I don't believe you," Mr. Dursley stated. "You're wearing your glasses."

True enough, Harry realized, in his haste to conceal that he had done something to wake his guardians, he'd forgotten to remove his glasses. Taking them off quickly and clumsily, though he knew it was too late, Harry stuttered, "I... must have... fallen asleep. I was... studying... for school."

Harry's excuse seemed to anger his uncle greatly, as Mr. Dursley missed the tell-tale shaking of his nephew's voice. He began to rant about Harry's abnormality, Harry's abnormal school, abnormal friends, and the abnormality of everything associated with Harry. "Not that it's a bad thing," Vernon Dursley said trying to attempt kindness, but the look in his eyes told a different story. Harry did not mind, however, for his uncle was so preoccupied with telling him off for studying the "M-word," he had entirely forgotten the noise for which he had come into Harry's room in the first place. Besides, Harry had felt so empty since the end of last year, the Dursley's false-niceness meant nothing to him.

"The _nerve_ of your kind! Not only _bringing_ your hocus pocus into normal homes, but _studying_ it! Like such a monstrosity could function like a normal institution!"

Harry wished he hadn't brought on this tirade, as his uncle was unlikely to stop any time soon. The Dursleys hated to think the wizarding world was anything like their own, the Muggle world. Harry continued to listen to his uncle's raving, trying to wait out the storm, gazing glumly at his bare feet, when Mr. Dursley paused uncharacteristically. Harry dragged his eyes upward slightly from the comfortable view of his toes to peer at his uncle's blue and green plaid slippers, which had bumped into the corner of an envelope sticking out from underneath the floor.

_This is_ _not_ _my day_, groaned Harry inwardly as Vernon Dursley plucked the letter from between the floorboards and brought it in front of his face, making the Hogwarts seal on the back distinctly visible to Harry. Standing up, Harry subtly positioned himself over the floorboard beneath which Harry had hidden his other mail in case his uncle decided to search Harry's room for more questionable objects. Since his arrival at Privet Drive, Harry easily towered over his uncle by several inches.

"That's a letter from school," Harry said as cooly as he could manage. His heart was thumping loudly in his chest, not because of his uncle, but because of the sinking feeling he had in the pit of his stomach. He was certain the letter contained the results of the O.W.L.s he had taken his last year at Hogwarts. "I think it contains my exam results."

After what had first looked like a mix of suspicion and curiosity, Mr. Dursley's face turned to disgust at realizing the source of the letter and hearing Harry's words. "Keep your rubbish post to yourself!" Harry's uncle barked. "And stop making so much noise." The door slammed as Mr. Dursley exited.

"Sure," Harry said dolefully to the closed door, thinking the flung package caused less noise than his uncle. He plopped onto his bed, contemplating the official looking letter he knew contained his O.W.L. results, and the answer to the question, "Would he become an Auror?"

The echoing shouts of his uncle venting his spleen reached Harry's ears, "The indecency of it all... EXAMS! Like _they_ need them... don't they just twitch their noses, or something?"

Trying to shut out the raised voices of his relatives, Harry slowly opened the envelope, catching his breath as he removed several sheets of parchment and glanced over them. The first was a regular letter, followed by the book lists for each N.E.W.T. subject. _Odd_, thought Harry. _The lists don't usually come until August_. The third was his O.W.L. results:

Test _Mark_ Percent of Class

Charms _O_ 95

Transfiguration _E_ 84

Care of Magical Creatures _E_ 89

Defense Against the Dark Arts _O _100

Potions _O_ 90

Divination _P_ 62

Herbology _E_ 83

History of Magic _D_ 48

Astronomy _E _86

Due to the disruption during this exam, all marks have been increased by one level.

CONGRATULATIONS! To Miss Hermione Granger, the only student tested at Hogwarts to receive O's on all exams.

_She'd be happy about that_, thought Harry, thankful he'd managed to obtain an O in Potions. Even if he had to spend the next two years with Snape, at least he had the chance to become an Auror.

Still somewhat gloomy, he turned to the floor, staring at the hiding place of his birthday gifts. He sighed resignedly and lifted the board to see all of his packages looking up at him. Harry grabbed every one of them, placing each on his bed, and opening them slowly.

The first was from Hermione and felt, of course, like a book. Remembering Ron's and his Christmas presents from Hermione last year, bewitched homework planners, Harry unwrapped the brown packaged paper hesitantly. To his relief, and surprise, it was a copy of Qudditch Through the Ages. Harry smiled slightly, and put down the book to read the enclosed card:

July 30, 1996

Harry,

Happy birthday! I hope you like the gift. I tried to get it sooner, but it took me _ages_ to find a first edition copy. I suppose you have it memorized after all those times you've taken it out of the library, and Snape's taken it back! If only you put that much effort into memorizing information for Transfiguration!

Dumbledore still won't tell us why you won't spend the summer with us. I even suggested going to my house for the remainder of the holidays if you didn't want to stay at Black Manor Headquarters. You haven't really had a chance to speak with my parents that often, and it would be so much fun! Ron hasn't really spent that much time living with Muggles, and you're used to it, so we could teach him a few things and it would be so interesting for him. Dumbledore still insisted it was best for you to stay at Privet Drive, but when I asked why he said it was up to you to tell me.

I still haven't gotten my O.W.L. results yet, have you? I'm so nervous! What would happen if I got a P?

Hermione continued to ramble about possible mistakes she could have made during the examinations for the majority of the rest of the letter. Harry grinned; the only student to receive all O's was worried about her results. Scanning ahead to avoid reading the details on how inadequate Hermione's answer on transfiguring a tea towel into a teacup was, he finished the letter:

Well, I'll see you at Hogwarts anyway. Have a great summer, if you can! Happy birthday again!

Love,

Hermione

The next gift Harry opened was a box of Skiving Snackboxes: Nosebleed Nougats from Fred and George. The only note attached said: _For your cousin._ Harry nearly laughed aloud, remembering a certain toffee Dudley had come across the last time the twins visited.

Cautiously, Harry began opening a decent-sized box from Hagrid, before it shook with movement. Hurdling back in fear of meeting a Blast-Ended Skrewt, Harry tentatively reached out a hand to open the lid of the package. Hagrid was well-known for his love of dangerous beasts, and Harry feared one might be his next birthday present.

After the lid was off the top of the box and nothing had leapt out to attack him, Harry deduced that it was safe to peer into the box to see whatever was in it. The _thing_ was unlike any Harry had come across. Resembling a large, grey lobster with green spots, the creature gazed up at him, its eyes at the ends of long stalks protruding from its head. Seeing a note at the bottom of the box, Harry extended his arm to grab it. Apparently irritated, the animal scurried over to the intruding hand and bit it.

"Ouch!" Harry exclaimed, withdrawing his hand and the parchment quickly. Biting his lower lip, Harry unrolled the scroll, and tried to interpret the nearly illegible note.

Saaw these a few wekes ago and thot you mite like one. You can kepe hem at my plase dering the schul yeer. He's a Mackled Malaclaw, so dont let hem bite you, unliss you wannt to bee unluckie fore a weke!

_Great_, Harry thought, unwrapping his final gift, from Ron. Lifting the lid of the box, he found a bright green sweater knitted by Mrs. Weasley, an orange Chudley Cannons tee-shirt boasting "Let's all just keep our fingers crossed and hope for the best," and a box of chocolate frogs. At the bottom of the box was a note:

**I know it's the middle of summer, but Mum sent it anyway, saying it would "match your eyes." Have a fun rest of the summer. See you at school.******

Harry felt the anger and frustration that had ebbed away while he was preoccupied with his gifts bubble up again. This was the first summer since he had been to Hogwarts that he wouldn't be able to leave the Dursley's early. Ron didn't even ask why Dumbledore said he could not visit! Sure, the Dursleys were treating him better than before, but whether Harry was being tormented and ignored or having his relatives regard him as "normal" in their false-sweet way didn't matter to him. He was still stuck in this hell-hole for the rest of the holidays! And all because Voldemort couldn't penetrate the protection of his mother's blood.

For the first time in his life, Harry truly despised his mother's final gift to him; her sacrifice that had guarded him from Voldemort so many times before. Crashing his back down on his bed with a thump and staring angrily at the ceiling, Harry did not think about the blessings of this shielding, but of its curses. His mind didn't focus on the fact that Harry would be dead without his mother forfeiting her life, but the misery it had caused him since. If she hadn't tried to save him, she'd still be alive; if she hadn't sacrificed her life, Harry would be just as safe with his friends as with his relatives; if that magic, that _love_ hadn't been in Harry's blood, Voldemort might not have come back, and if Voldemort hadn't come back, Sirius...

There were many moments in the life of Harry Potter where he wished to be normal, but none of those thoughts were as strong as what he felt then. If Harry was normal, just another school-aged wizard, he would be carefree, never knowing the horrors of the Dursleys or Voldemort, but living with Sirius, no, actually _his parents_, people he barely knew, but wouldn't see again.

But Harry Potter was not normal; a prophecy had changed that. A prophecy that foretold of his life ending in or involving murder. He would never be normal or carefree; he would always be troubled by this horrid truth; and all the sacrifices, all the love and protection in the world, could not save him from his fate.

Like so many times before, Harry stared sullenly at the ceiling, his hands behind his head, one leg straight, the other bent at the knee like a large mountain peak. He'd lain like this every morning that summer, reluctantly waiting until the loathsome moment when he'd have to leave his room and meet the false sweetness of his aunt, uncle, and cousin that had occupied his life all summer. Harry was relieved at first when Moody, Tonks, and Lupin warned the Dursleys that if they didn't treat Harry better — well, what they'd do was never actually mentioned, but it was enough to convince the Dursleys— but now he longed for the way his relatives treated him before. He felt trapped with three Umbridges, dripping with fake kindness but hatred behind the eyes of their smiling faces.

After a few fuming moments glaring at nothing in particular above him, Harry rolled out of his bed, put on his glasses, and looked at himself in the window. He appeared the same as he had always been; skinny, dark, messy hair, green eyes, and a thin lightning scar that haunted him for most of his life. Again, that feeling, that longing for normality, swept over him and ignoring it and turning away from his reflection, Harry began to walk down to the Dursley's kitchen, not bothering to flatten his hair; he didn't have anywhere to go.

Of all the incredulous sights Harry had seen, nothing prepared him for what awaited him at the kitchen table. Seated in mahogany chairs, sat the Dursleys looking displeased with their situation, but prim and proper as always. On the table, in the center of plates stacked high with pancakes and bacon, was a cake with the words, "Happy Birthday" written in icing. Surrounding the table was a small, but certainly noticeable stack of presents.

"What...How..._Why_?" Harry said, his thoughts jumbling around in his head, causing his words to tumble out in fragments.

"Why? Because it's your sixteenth birthday, dear!" Petunia Dursley proclaimed in an overly-saccharined voice, but with visible fear behind her eyes. Fear that shone in the eyes of every Dursley at that table, terrified that Harry would think they treated him poorly and that _his _people would come to punish those who did not care for Harry properly.

Years ago, these circumstances would have delighted Harry, having an actual birthday with his remaining family or even the fact that he had the Dursleys at his bidding, their fear binding them to his will. He glanced back on a memory from second year, the enjoyment he had, threatening to use the magic they didn't know he was not allowed to use, at that time. He was so different now from that twelve-year-old boy who had been unaware of the knowledge his sixteen-year-old self would hold.

His thoughts were interrupted by his relatives. "Tell your cousin, 'Happy birthday,' Dudley," Mrs. Dursley commanded tapping her son lightly on the head, more out of nervousness and impatience, than embarrassment from Dudley's lack of politeness.

"Happy birthday," Harry's cousin mumbled barely audibly.

"Thanks," Harry said sarcastically through gritted teeth, just as quietly.

"Now," Vernon Dursley began, beads of sweat forming on his face, "after breakfast and gifts, where would you like to go?"

"Excuse me?" Harry asked.

"It's your birthday! We're going to celebrate so we need to know where you'd like us to take you!" Mrs. Dursley replied as if this happened every year. Her smile was forced so wide it appeared her face seemed to be on the verge of cracking.

"Come, eat now," Mr. Dursley said. "You can decide where you want to go after you've dined and dressed. And after you open your gifts," he added hastily.

"I'm not going," Harry stated, his voice distant and flat.

"Of course you are dear," his aunt gushed with her sugary tone. "It is _your_ birthday."

"I don't want to go anywhere," Harry's voice strained to remain quiet against his urge to shout.

"Rubbish," Mr. Dursley chortled apprehensively. "He'll want to go once he's eaten and seen his gifts."

"I... Don't... Want... To... Go... Anywhere... With... You!" Harry struggled to hold back the savagery tearing at his throat. "And I don't want any gifts!"

The Dursleys glanced at each other nervously, fear evident in their eyes. Clearly they hadn't expected Harry to react to their "generosity" in that manner. The shock, surprise, and the fact that an angry sixteen-year-old wizard was standing in their kitchen momentarily paralyzed the three of them, unable to speak. In the tense silence, the reasonable side of Harry thought _they're trying to be nice to you; they just don't know how_, so with a reluctant sigh, he sat down.

­_It isn't genuine, though­­_,Harry's anger responded as he took a mouthful of pancake. The trio around him looked relieved, but still wary of Harry's now frequent outbursts. They all remembered the time when Harry "blew-up" Aunt Marge because of his temper.

After a rather tense and silent breakfast, during which Harry's rage had become only a slight simmer, the Dursleys sat waiting for their nephew to open his presents. Harry's eyes gazed at the ugliest wrapping paper he'd ever seen; a floral print of daisies in lavender, orchid, and a fierce shade of pink. Hoping the inside would look nothing like the outside, Harry tentatively opened his gifts.

In each of the boxes was an article of clothing. By the time Harry finished unwrapping the packages, he had two pairs of jeans, khaki pants, and an assortment of white shirts and grey sweatshirts, as well as some rather ugly socks he planned to give to Dobby, who had a clothing fetish ever since his freedom from the Malfoys.

Harry was shocked. This was the first time his aunt, uncle, and cousin had given him new clothes and they looked small enough to actually ­­_fit_ him. However plain the garments were, Harry still felt astonished. His eyes roamed from the pile of clothes to each of the Dursleys' faces. It didn't matter to Harry's cynicism that they wouldn't have done this without the warning from the Order members last month; Harry still felt closer to the Dursleys than ever before.

"Thanks," he choked, the surprise freezing his vocal cords in his larynx. At his words, the three people around him relaxed partially, yet again in quiet relief. It was like lukewarm water being poured over an ice cube; something in the Dursleys' fear melted, but some of the old coldness was still left behind.

"Well, now," Mr. Dursley started uneasily. "Where... If... Er... Would you like to go somewhere?"

"I'll think about it," Harry replied, leaving the table and taking his clothes to try on.

"Well, get dressed and give us your decision dear," Petunia cooed, her voice continuously becoming sweeter.

Harry hurried up to his bedroom, grateful to be away from his new "nice" relatives. He bounded up the stairs, not because of happiness, but to distance himself from the tension of the Dursley's kitchen. Swinging his door open, he found an owl hooting softly on his bed. Taking the scroll from around its leg, Harry scanned the handwriting which was hastily written, as if in excitement, but still relatively neat. It was from Hermione.

Tossing the letter aside as the owl flew off, Harry began to try on a pair of jeans and t-shirt. It was probably an essay length paper on how surprised and happy she was about her O.W.L. results. He might read it later to delay his next encounter with the Dursleys, but he wasn't currently in the mood to read anything about test results.

Looking again at the window to see his reflection, Harry was astonished at how he looked in Muggle clothes that actually fit. The shirt and pants were slightly baggy, but more for comfort than ill-fitting. Again, he was pleased with the Dursleys' generosity, however insincere it was.

After trying on all of his new clothes (most of which were the same, but it didn't matter), Harry resignedly sat down with a dull thud on his bed and read Hermione's letter, which to Harry's amazement had surprisingly little to do with the O.W.L.s.

Dear Harry,

You're probably rather sick of my letters by now, but I just ­_had_ to write. I was so surprised when I got my O.W.L. results; the only one with _all_ Os! I turned positively pink! How did you do?

Well, your darling friend, Ronald Weasley, has just asked me to stop rambling on about O.W.L.s and get to the point. He's just upset because he didn't do very well on his exams.

**Am not!**

Are too. (The nerve!) Anyway, I...

­**_We_**

Well, _we _just had to write (of course I'm writing, so it really should be "I")

**Oh, get on with it, Hermione!**

Harry skipped over the half parchment of his two best friends' bickering. He was quite used to it when they were speaking, but in writing it was just too much.

Fine. Anyway, The Daily Prophet had an article in it we thought you needed to see. Everyone here is so upset, even Ron's mum; Fred and George will be crushed. Check page B7.

_Why do they want me to read a Prophet article?_ Harry puzzled. _And why is it so upsetting? If it was so distressing to the Order, wouldn't it be on the front page? _Fearing the worst, Harry opened his previously disregarded paper to B7 and viewed the headline:

**Fletcher Involved in Time-Turner Black Market**

Everything made sense now. A black market crook was not necessarily front page material, but it would be upsetting to those at Black Manor. Mundungus Fletcher, certainly involved in the "business opportunities" of the black market, was a member of the Order. One less member, caught for illegal actions, would be devastating to their cause.

_Mundungus Fletcher was recently arrested and tried for his involvement in the Time-Turner black market. Fletcher, rumored to have been associated with previous antics such as theft and smuggling, has been caught in what Art Telchar, head of Ministry of Magic Department of Magical Law Enforcement, calls, "a most astonishing and devious plot." Fletcher was charged with theft, smuggling, as well as illegal manufacturing and distribution of nearly 9,000 time-turners over the past six years. After having been proven guilty of all charges, Fletcher was therein sentenced to ten years in Azkaban. No new information has been disclosed of the others involved in the Time-Turner caper since the trial._

Harry couldn't count how many times that day he had been shocked into numb silence. He stared dumbly at both the letter and the article in turn, his eyes swinging back and forth. It wasn't so much surprise at Mundungus's illegal actions; he was notorious for it, even in the Order, but he never thought he'd get caught. Although Harry had never been close to Mundungus like the Weasley twins had, it was just expected he'd always be there, like a shadow. Harry couldn't help but feel a sense of irony at this feeling; Mundungus had left his post one time last summer when he was supposed to be guarding Harry.

Harry returned to reading the letter Hermione and Ron had sent him.

Isn't it horrible? _We're_ going to write Fred and George after this, see if they've heard. They'll be so upset.

**I'm sure, Hermione. More likely they'll create some sort of candy or something in his honor.**

Fine, then. Fred and George won't be upset at all; they'd see it as a big joke. In fact, they'll probably invent a way to break him out of Azkaban.

**That's a great idea! I'll let them know you suggested it!**

You most certainly will NOT! Mundungus was a thief, he deserves time in Azkaban. At least the Dementors aren't there anymore.

**What happened to "everyone's so upset... isn't it horrible" and all that?**

Just because it's horrid doesn't mean crime should go unpunished! I'm mailing this to Harry now.

Hermione

P.S. Sorry about Ron. You're probably sick of us by now; I am too. Wish you were here.

P.P.S. Aren't you excited about the news from Hogwarts? It's what you've always wanted. See you soon!

Harry stood puzzling over the letter. _Hadn't she already mentioned the O.W.L. results?_ It wasn't likely Hermione would forget that she brought them up earlier; she'd asked what he'd gotten so how would she know it was what he'd always wanted? He then remembered the other sheet in his letter from Hogwarts; the one he hadn't read.

He picked up the papers that had lain forgotten on the floor. Removing the book list and O.W.L. results, he read the letter.

Dear Students and Parents,

Due to recent events, Professor Dumbledore has decided to let students spend the remainder of their summer holidays at Hogwarts. The Hogwarts Express will be leaving at 1:00pm on August 2, 4, and 6. Chaperoned trips to Diagon Alley to purchase supplies will be scheduled later in the month. The attached permission slip must be signed by a parent or guardian to board the train. The Hogwarts Express will leave on September 1, as usual, for those students who do not wish to return to Hogwarts before the start of term.

Sincerely,

Professor M. McGonagall

Beneath the letter was a hand-written note:

Harry,

I know you don't have to come early as you are staying with your aunt and uncle, but you are welcome to come.

Professor Albus Dumbledore

Relief and joy spread throughout of Harry. He didn't have to stay with the Dursleys! He was going back to Hogwarts for the summer! Grabbing the permission slip he rushed toward the kitchen, knowing where he wanted to go and certain the Dursleys would want to sign the permission slip. They would _want_ to be rid of him and this was not the summer they'd likely deny Harry what _he _wanted.

Halfway down the stairs, Harry stopped. A thought passed through him which he'd never considered before. Ever since the night of the third task and Voldemort's resurrection with Harry's blood, the Dark Lord had the protection of Harry's mother. The safety of Number Four Privet Drive didn't exist anymore.

A loud crash echoed through the house as several streaks of purple light streamed violently through the windows.

**A/N**: Evil ending. Read and review, please! Hope to update soon, but all things subject to change/distraction/boredom/lack of inspiration/etc.

Be sure to wish Harry and JKR a happy birthday!


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